He Does Care
by MollyHooper828
Summary: Molly has been head over heels in love with Sherlock Homes since she first laid eyes on him. She's tried to give up on him and forget it all but he's Sherlock Holmes, what's a girl to do? But what Molly doesn't know is that despite his outward appearance, Sherlock really does care about Molly and he's determined to prove it.
1. Chapter 1

He Does Care

_**Hi there! This piece is a few short one shots about Molly realizing that despite everything, Sherlock does actually have feelings, even when he tries to hide them. Review (Good or bad!) and enjoy!**_

Molly Hooper was tired. This was her third late night shift in a row at St. Bart's hospital and she could not have been more relieved when she saw she only had to finish a bit of blood testing and paperwork and then she could go home and sleep through her day off tomorrow.

Molly rolled away "Harvard, Gregory A." into the cool metal refrigerator and sighed heavily to herself before peeling off her blue latex gloves and throwing them into the trash can to her left.

"Long day, Dr. Hooper?" Molly jumped about a foot in the air and wheeled around to see Sherlock Holmes standing by the door of the morgue, an eyebrow raised at her reaction.  
"Oh, S-Sherlock. Sorry, I didn't- I mean, you startled me, that's all." Sherlock didn't reply but she could read his expression which was clearly saying "obviously."

"I need you to let me into the lab." Sherlock opened the door behind him ushering Molly out of it and flipping off the lights in the process. Molly barely had enough time to grab her bag and the blood samples before he shut the door.  
"Actually Sherlock," Molly started. "I was just going to finish up with a few bits of paperwork and sign some blood in for testing-" Molly didn't have time to finish before Sherlock interrupted her.  
"Is that a new blouse?"  
"What? Oh," Molly glanced down at her blue blouse. She had bought it in the hopes of wearing it somewhere outside of the morgue where actual living people would be able to see it but she knew that the chances of her leaving the comfort of her flat on her days off were slim to none. It wasn't an overly extravagant shirt, but she loved it all the same.

"Yes, I got it a few days ago." When she looked up from her shirt she realized Sherlock's facial expression had changed. _You are not falling for this again, Molly Hooper _she warned herself. But he was staring at her so intently, shifting back and forth a little bit on his heels.  
"It- well, it looks nice on you." Sherlock seemed so sincere even though she knew perfectly well he was saying this just so he could use her lab. She sighed heavily and closed her eyes feeling as though any second she was going to melt like butter.

"Well, I guess you can use the lab just until I'm finished." Sherlock beamed at her, which was very rare indeed and spun on his heel to lead her to her lab.

It was nearly one in the morning before Molly finished testing all the blood she needed to test and she was only half way done with her paper work, all of it spread out on the desk in front of her. Sherlock was bent over a microscope, a pen in hand, scribbling down notes every so often on a piece of scrap paper next to him. Molly stifled a yawn and turned back to her papers eyeing them with obvious distaste.

"Molly, can you pass me a pen?" Sherlock held out his hand not looking up from the microscope. "Mine's just died."  
"Sure." Molly opened the desk drawer in front of her and pulled out a regular black pen before slapping it in his hand. She stumbled back to her seat and flopped down, rubbing her eyes. God, she was tired. Maybe she could just rest her eyes for a moment, only one moment then she'd finish the rest of her paper work and go home.

Molly cracked her eyes open in what seemed like three seconds later but in reality was forty-five minutes from when she'd last had them open. She sat up worriedly when she saw Sherlock was no longer in his seat by the microscope and frantically rubbed the sleep from her eyes. _How long was I out of it _she thought before stretching her arms out in front of her.

"I've just gotten us a cab." Sherlock entered through the lab door and stared at his phone intently, typing away.  
"It should be here in a few minutes." He walked back through the door just as quickly as he came in leaving Molly flabbergasted. He'd called her a cab? That was nice of him. Wait, that was NICE of him. Sherlock wasn't nice unless he needed something; she'd known that having been at the receiving end of his fake compliments more often than she'd like to admit. Molly frowned trying to fully wake up and figure out everything that she had missed while she was asleep.

It was then that she noticed how warm she was; the lab was always frightfully cold and she had more often than not regretted not bringing a thicker jumper to wear underneath her white lab coat. She glanced down at her arms and saw an unfamiliar black coat wrapped around her shoulders and tucked under her in order to keep her warm. Molly rubbed her eyes again fighting against the fog that wanted to keep her asleep and quickly realized just whose coat this was.

"Are you coming, Molly?" Sherlock's head poked back into the room a frown tugging the corner of his lips downward when he saw she had barely moved.  
"The cab is here." Molly nodded her head and stood up, releasing Sherlock's coat from around her and instantly regretting the warmth as the cool, sterilized air hit her arms. Sherlock took the coat while the two of them walked down the hallway towards the exit of the hospital.

"You looked cold." Sherlock said as an explanation as to why she had woken up smothered. She nodded and smiled in thanks while he shrugged his coat back on and they walked out the door. The cab pulled up against the curb, ignoring the honks of indignation from the cars around it.

"What's the matter?" Molly glanced up at Sherlock's face; he was thinking about something and hard at that. He always got a small crease in between his eyebrows when he was contemplating something, Molly had noticed.

Sherlock just shook his head. "The coat, it smells like…..lavender." He sat in the back of the cab, waiting for Molly to climb in behind him, seeming to be pleased with his own deductions once he realized that it was Molly's perfume that had caused it to smell like the flower.

Once Molly reached her flat, had put down her bag and keys and had fed Toby, she collapsed into her bed not bothering to change out of her comfy work clothes. Right before she fell asleep again, however, she swore that from this day forward she would always wear lavender perfume.

_**A/N One of many stories that will be posted soon, I've had a bunch of ideas pop into my head of late and I intend to write them all down on paper. I'm taking prompts in either a review or PM form if you have a good idea for a story! Thank you ahead of time for reviewing!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**GUYS. I'm seriously feeling loved right now. If I could, I would run up and hug you all. Thank you to all of you who have followed and reviewed the story! Remember that reviews make me write faster **____** (You all are Sherlock fans; you should know what I was hinting at there. I'll leave you to your deductions.)  
_**_

Sherlock Holmes was never a demonstrative man, quite the opposite in fact. He never showed any sort of emotion besides excitement and boredom and although his flat mate and best friend John Watson was used to it, he was always taken by surprise when Sherlock would become overly excited at the prospect of a specifically gruesome murder. Today, however, there wasn't a case to solve, there wasn't any experiment to work on, nothing. And that was the worst type of day for Sherlock Holmes.

"Bored." Sherlock was lounging on top of his favorite chair in the living room of 221B Baker Street, his limbs dangling off of the arm at an awkward angle and he was sighing loudly to grab the attention of his ever blogging flat mate.  
"What, Sherlock?" John didn't look up from his laptop; he was too engrossed in typing a new blog entry  
"BORED." Sherlock attempted to roll over to look at John but because his chair was so small compared to his height, Sherlock successfully ended up on his face.

John glanced over and snorted at Sherlock's cramped figure.  
"You're going to suffocate." Sherlock mumbled a few things into the couch cushion that sounded suspiciously like an insult to John's intelligence but he ignored him otherwise.

_Btttz. Btttz._

John stopped typing and looked up from his laptop to see Sherlock, who had rolled over, typing away animatedly on his phone.  
"Who is that?" John asked curiously.  
"Molly. She's telling me the results of an experiment I left at Bart's." John raised his eyebrows at his best friend who as per usual wasn't paying any attention. John had constantly heard Sherlock ask Molly to text him results or him telling her that he would text the smitten pathologist, but he had never actually pictured any of their exchanges before.

Out of the blue, Sherlock jumped up excitedly and ran in the direction of his room.  
"John, quick, we're leaving!" John heaved a sigh, shut his laptop, and got up off of his chair stretching his arms above his head.  
"Where are we going?" Sherlock immerged from his room fully dressed looking as if he hadn't spent the better part of the day in nothing but his pajamas and dressing gown. Sherlock blinked at John, his facial expression clearly saying that he should have figured it out already.  
"St. Bart's, of course."  
"Of course."

Around fifteen minutes later, Sherlock and John burst through the doors of Molly Hooper's lab directly above the morgue of St. Bartholomew's Hospital. Molly jumped as per her normal routine scattering her papers around her feet but Sherlock either didn't notice or didn't care.

"You said my thumbs were ready?" Molly blinked a few times and then seemed to come back to reality.  
"Oh, er, yes of course. Would you like me to get them?" Sherlock shook his head.  
"Just point me in the right direction." Molly gestured to the stairway.  
"Down in the morgue, they're in refrigerator C5." Sherlock turned on his heel, his coat billowing out behind him and disappeared out the doorway. Molly and John looked at one another for an instant and quickly followed the world's only consulting detective.

The morgue was always frightfully cold; Molly still blushed bright scarlet whenever she remembered the time Sherlock had leant her his coat when she had fallen asleep and was shivering. This memory did nothing to help her stuttering around him however, so when John and Molly quickly entered the lab behind Sherlock, she decided to keep her mouth closed.

Sherlock was already seated at a table, a package of festering thumbs beside a microscope he was currently looking through apparently examining the mold that had grown on the rotting flesh. John had seen much worse things in his life besides moldy thumbs but that didn't stop him from wrinkling his nose in disgust when he spotted a patch of mold sitting under the microscope lens.

"May I ask what you are trying to accomplish here Sherlock?" John asked. He didn't see why he had to be here, Sherlock could just have easily completed his experiment without his help.  
"Measuring the amount of moisture in joints after death. Obviously there is enough body fluid for the thumbs to mold-" Sherlock paused and quickly cross-referenced his findings with the computer screen next to him. Angrily, he slammed the screen down hard making both Molly and John jump.

"Nothing!" Sherlock folded his hands under his chin, a small dent forming in between his eyebrows and a frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. He scowled at the putrefying thumbs in front of him and John suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.  
"What, Sherlock?" Sherlock turned flashing eyes on John.  
"The mold, John! I don't recognize it." Sherlock gestured to the microscope and scowled again, upset that he had admitted it out loud.

Hesitantly Molly inched towards the mold and rotting thumbs. She thought that she had seen the form before and maybe, just maybe, she would be able to help.  
"Sherlock," Molly started to speak but Sherlock cut her off.  
"Oh, what now Molly? I'm BUSY and the last thing I need is to have my thoughts interrupted by everyone else's spectacularly idiotic opinions!" Molly frowned but continued.  
"Sherlock, the mold is memnoniella. I find it a lot on bodies that have been in the water for a long time. It's quite common." Sherlock stared at Molly for a moment, his mouth opening and closing resembling that of a cod fish. He blinked and looked back at the microscope, then at Molly and back again.

"Memnoniella." Sherlock spoke slowly, dragging out every syllable. John could practically hear him thinking 'stupid!' over and over again in his head.

"Brilliant!" Sherlock stood up running over to the edge of the counter where he had placed the thumbs.  
"Oh, this is perfect! Memnoniella!" Sherlock threw his hands up in the air in triumph and ran back over to John and Molly.  
"This fixes everything!" Sherlock exclaimed, all traces of a frown gone. "Molly that's brilliant!" without hesitating, Sherlock leaned in and kissed Molly soundly on the cheek while John's jaw dropped open in shock. Molly seemed unable to form actual words but Sherlock didn't notice.

"Come on John, this is brilliant!" John hadn't the faintest idea what brilliant idea this form of mold had led to, but he followed Sherlock out the morgue door sending Molly an apologetic look as they left.

Molly stood in the same spot for around five minutes trying to register what had just happened. Molly had just been kissed by Sherlock Holmes. SHERLOCK HOLMES had just voluntarily kissed Molly Hooper! She placed her hand lightly on her cheek and walked out the door and up the stairs towards her lab, a small skip in her step that would stay there for the rest of the day.


	3. Chapter 3

_**This one was inspired by "louisethelibrarian's" review talking about a jealous Sherlock. I can do that **___

"Died not too long ago of a heart attack." Molly explained to Sherlock, John and DI Lestrade who were standing over the body of Frederick Douglas. He was the key witness in a murder case Lestrade thought he could handle but his sudden disappearance and death had caused Lestrade to call in the worlds only consulting detective.

"Heart attack, you said?" Lestrade looked at Molly, confusion etched across his face. "He was found shoved in a dumpster on Lombard Street." Sherlock rolled his eyes having already figured out the case.  
"It was fear, Lestrade. The murderer with a gang of his chased after him and, to put it simply, he was frightened to death." John glanced at Sherlock who was leaning in closer to get a better look at the body in front of him.  
"Is that even possible?"  
"Obviously." He gestured to Frederick Douglas with his left hand, his right one picking up the wrist of the victim.

Molly quickly scribbled down what Sherlock had said on her report which was folded nicely on a clip board she was holding while Sherlock dropped Frederick's wrist and pulled out his phone. He quickly typed in unknown information into a search engine and turned to face Lestrade.

"There you have it, Lestrade, case closed. I doubt you will need my assistance to find the door?"  
"Wait a minute Sherlock, we still haven't caught the murderer!" Sherlock held his phone in front of Lestrade's face the screen showing a picture of a foul looking man in a brown overcoat.  
"Dean Harvey charged with armed robbery, assault and murder. He is currently located inside Grover's bar on the corner of Lombard Street. That's the meeting place for one of his gangs; you'll find them all there. It's no wonder that's where the body was found, they couldn't bother themselves with finding a better hiding spot." Sherlock tucked his phone away in his pocket and turned to Molly and John who were both staring at Sherlock, their mouths hanging open.

John shook his head after a moment, realizing that he would never quite figure out all the things that Sherlock had seen that others had missed, while Molly was still trying to get over how drop dead gorgeous Sherlock looked when he was concentrating on a case. Sherlock raised his eyebrow at the pair waiting for a response.  
"Well then," Lestrade interrupted Sherlock's thoughts. "I better take this to Scotland Yard." He walked over towards the door but stopped halfway and turned back around. Sherlock was back on his phone and didn't notice the hesitant steps the Detective Inspector was taking towards Molly who had wandered over to her desk to file her paperwork.

"Molly?"  
"Oh, Greg, sorry I thought you'd left." Sherlock paused at this. Since when were Lestrade and Molly on first name terms? Lestrade smiled at her and she smiled back completely oblivious and thumbed through the papers on her clipboard.  
"I was wondering, maybe if you aren't busy-" He stopped and took a silent breath. Both John and Sherlock were watching the transaction between the two but John was polite enough to pretend like he was focusing on something else. Sherlock on the other hand, when he wasn't glaring daggers at Lestrade, was blatantly staring at Molly, gauging her reaction to Lestrade's words.

Molly didn't notice Sherlock or John but turned scarlet red at the implication in Lestrade's words.  
"Oh. You mean-"  
"A date, yes." Lestrade had opened his mouth to respond but it was Sherlock who answered the question. The pair turned to see Sherlock standing unusually close to Molly, a frown and glare coating his features.  
"I'm sorry _Greg_, but Molly will have to decline your offer of a date at the present time." Sherlock put emphasis on Lestrade's first name as if to draw attention to Molly's familiarity with him. Molly was too surprised to say anything and Lestrade turned almost as red as Molly was. John had given up feigning disinterest in the current situation and was instead sending an absolutely appalled look in Sherlock's general direction.

"Oh, well, um… I'll just uh," Lestrade backed out of the morgue awkwardly, surprise and embarrassment etched across his face. When he was gone, Sherlock stepped back from Molly and pulled out his phone again, seemingly absorbed in whatever it was he was doing. Molly would have none of it however.

"What was that?" Her voice usually so timid and quiet was raised to its full potential and she was standing up straight, obviously nervous about confronting Sherlock but determined none the less.  
"What was what, Molly?"  
"THAT." She pushed her eyebrows together and gestured towards the door of the morgue obviously referring to her recent encounter with Lestrade.  
"It seemed to me that that was a certain detective inspector shrinking away in embarrassment. Why do you ask?" Molly ground her teeth together obviously annoyed with Sherlock's clever tricks in avoiding her questions. John looked back and forth at Sherlock and then at Molly as if watching a tennis match. He could practically cut the tension between them with a knife it was getting that bad. Silently, John crept out the door the way Lestrade had left and closed the door softly behind him; neither Molly nor Sherlock noticed his absence.

"I mean, what was that whole-"  
"I know what you meant Molly, but I am obviously avoiding your question and you could do me the favor of noticing this and stop asking such inane questions." Sherlock clicked his phone off and shoved it into his pocket with more force than was necessary. Under normal circumstances this would have been enough to shut Molly up for a few minutes but Molly was angry and Sherlock could tell that this normal deflective process would not be effective.

"Why did you do that?" Molly was getting angrier by the second and at this point was practically shaking. "Why on Earth would you step in and start… start…!" She couldn't finish her sentence but Molly could feel the tears start to well up behind her eyes. She pushed them away angrily and stared up at Sherlock waiting for his response. All these years she had been head over heels for him and he knew it and now the one time that another person decided they wanted to enjoy Molly's company he had to come by and ruin it!

"Why, Sherlock?" She asked him angrily through gritted teeth. She hadn't let Sherlock see the salt water forming underneath her eyes and hid her hurt behind an enraged exterior.

"WHY? I asked you a question, now answer me!" Sherlock was obviously taken aback by Molly's attitude in this matter. Hadn't he been helping? Lestrade was by no means a suitable partner for his pathologist and- wait. Sherlock retreated to his mind palace. He couldn't see Molly Hooper with anyone besides- he didn't let his thoughts get that far. But surely this meant SOMETHING. He had always referred to Molly as HIS pathologist both out loud and in his thoughts. Why did he do that? Sherlock didn't love anyone really besides perhaps John and Mrs. Hudson. He would never go as far as to say he loved Molly, although maybe, just maybe he might have….FEELINGS for her? Sherlock came back to reality and shook his head.

Molly scowled and turned back to her paperwork turning a brighter shade of red. She wasn't going to get a response from him, and she knew it and was suddenly very embarrassed by her actions. She should apologize, she thought irrationally, for yelling at him.

"Sherlock, I shouldn't have screamed like that. You just have no right to be in my personal affairs and I for one-" But Sherlock cut her off and not in the way she had expected.

"I'm sorry Molly."  
"What?" Sherlock sighed, exasperated.  
"I'm sorry. You're completely justified, I-" He hesitated and closed his eyes. "I was…_wrong…_to interfere. Forgive me, Molly." She stood there frozen, her mouth slightly open in shock.

Sherlock smiled a little in conclusion to his apology and left the morgue quickly, unsure of what to do. This was a new feeling; he had never experienced it before. Was it possible that he might actually have feelings for Molly Hooper? For once in his life, Sherlock Holmes did not have an answer.


	4. Chapter 4

Molly bit her lip thoughtfully as she walked down the darkened streets of London outside of St. Bartholomew's hospital. She had never heard Sherlock apologize before, why would he now? Was it because he finally saw how angry she was with him? Or was this another one of his social experiments where she just happened to be the only test subject? Molly sighed as yet another taxi cab blew right past her without noticing her outstretched hand. Her flat wasn't that far away from where she was now, but she didn't want to walk home, she was so tired.

Molly sighed again and walked a little faster towards her home. Maybe if she hurried, she would catch the newest episode of Downton Abbey.

Sherlock sat in a chair by the fire plucking the strings of his violin. He had his feet tucked under him and the fire in front of him was roaring nicely making it much easier to compose music but for some reason, Sherlock couldn't get Molly Hooper out of his mind. He thought of her often, always imagining her different facial expressions at different things he had said or what he had done but this time it was different. He couldn't picture her now, all he could think was her name. He would get a sort of tingly feeling whenever he thought of her but it was a nice feeling. Warm, like the fire in front of him but comforting too. Sherlock picked up his pencil and scribbled down a few more notes before playing the melody and humming along with it.

When Molly reached her flat, she was utterly exhausted. Toby greeted her warmly, meowing for his dinner but Molly could barely stand on her own two feet. She stumbled into her living room and collapsed onto her couch pulling her arm over her eyes. She was done trying to analyze Sherlock Holmes every movement, he would never fall for her she was certain. Every time she tried to grab his attention, he would point out whatever she had done to impress him and then he would comment on how it didn't suit her.

Toby bounced onto Molly's lap and pawed at her jumper reminding her that he hadn't eaten yet. Molly had to hold back a smile; she loved her cat so much. Maybe tomorrow would be a better day for her. Well, one could only hope.

The next day at St. Bart's, Molly saw the world a little bit brighter. She didn't have any gruesome autopsies, just a few natural deaths that she could handle and there wasn't as much paper work as she normally received.

Of course, this sort of happiness never lasted long.

It was around 1:00 in the afternoon when Sherlock entered the morgue, his phone in hand as per his normal routine. He tucked the electronic in his pocket and stared at Molly, waiting for her attention. Currently she was bent over "Gareth, Jenson N" whom she was sewing up. Normal people would have flinched at this sight, but Sherlock was not a normal person by anyone's standards.

When Molly rolled the body away and peeled of her gloves and mask, Sherlock had pulled out his phone again.  
"Yes, Sherlock?" Molly smiled at him halfheartedly. She wasn't unhappy to see him by any means but she didn't want any insult to her or her work ruin his apology the night before. Sherlock tucked his phone away again and rocked a bit back and forth on his heels hesitantly. Molly had turned away at this point and set to cleaning her instruments in the sink of the morgue. He wasn't sure how to approach this, he had never done anything like this before, how was he supposed to say this? Then a thought hit him.

"Molly, erm," He silently chastised himself for acting so absurd. He was an adult, he can figure out something as simple as human reactions.  
"I was wondering, maybe you'd like to get coffee?" He smiled a bit to himself remembering when Molly herself had said those words to him.

"Hm?" Molly placed the clean instruments on a rolling cart by the sink. "Oh, yes of course." She wiped her hands dry on her lab coat and walked out of the morgue door leaving a baffled Sherlock in her wake. What on earth-

Molly came back a few minutes later holding a steaming Styrofoam cup in her hand which she placed neatly on her desk.  
"There you are Sherlock, black two sugars." Molly smiled at Sherlock and walked back to the sink, picking up her now clean tools intending to put them away. Sherlock's mouth fell open at the sight.

"Molly, that's not-" Sherlock picked up the coffee in front of him staring into the steam. "What I meant was-" What was going on here? He never talked like this! He was Sherlock bloody Holmes, for God's sake, surely he could figure out how to talk to his own pathologist!

Molly looked up at Sherlock puzzled.  
"Sorry, what were you saying?" Sherlock hesitated.  
"Never mind, I should get going." Sherlock tightened his blue scarf around his neck.  
"Thank you for the coffee." He said simply before walking out of the door scowling. This had not gone according to plan at all.


	5. Chapter 5

"He lent you his coat, a few days later he kissed you, and then he apologized for acting the way he normally does?" Mary, Molly's best friend and colleague sat opposite her in a tiny coffee shop a little ways away from St. Bart's. This had always been the place they would go to meet up when they had days off or after a long day and they wanted to chat; now Molly was desperate for advice.

"I don't know what to make of it." Molly put her elbow on the table in front of her and looked at Mary questioningly. "He doesn't normally act like this, is all. It makes me wonder if he's ill." Mary laughed.

"I doubt it sweetie. People like Sherlock don't get sick, they haven't got the time to stay in bed all day." Mary glanced at Molly over her steaming latte. "Did you ever think that maybe he's starting to really like you?"  
Molly snorted and took a sip of her drink. "Me? Please, Mary. I'm just the little mousy pathologist who says silly things around him and he notices it every time. Usually points it out too." She frowned and Mary took her hand in her own.

"Hey. You're only human Molly Hooper. It's a natural reaction for someone to stutter around someone they like. You should see me around John." Mary roller her eyes.  
"John? You mean Dr. John Watson?" She nodded.  
"I can't help it. Have you seen the way he walks?" Mary took a break to fan herself with her napkin while Molly laughed.  
"He's very nice too. I think I might ask him out for dinner." Mary became lost in her thoughts for a moment and Molly took the opportunity to look out the window. She loved London but sometimes all the rain brought her mood down with it. She didn't think the world would end if there was one sunny day to cheer her up.

Mary noticed Molly's mood and nudged her gently.  
"Maybe we should take the evening off tomorrow; you know, a sort of girl's night, yeah?" Molly grinned at her best friend. She was always looking out for her and it warmed Molly's heart to know that she'd always have at least one person on her side through every step she took.

"Why not? It sounds like fun. Were you thinking of going anywhere special?"  
"I dunno, maybe Grover's bar?" Molly shook her head fervently thinking of one of the last autopsies she had done.  
"Nope, not a chance." Mary looked at her questioningly but said nothing.  
"Alright then, what about that bar and restaurant down the street from my flat? What was it called….Puzzles I think? I hear they have great Greek food." Molly had to laugh at that.

"You know me too well."  
"Of course! I pride myself on Molly knowledge." The two girls grinned at each other and stood up to go.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Mary!" Molly called before walking towards the door and stepping out into the rain. She silently cursed herself for not being smarter and shoving her umbrella in her bag before she left, but turned her coat collar up and walked fast towards the main road hoping to catch a cab.

"Ugh!" Molly resisted the urge to stamp her foot on the sidewalk when the third empty cab she saw completely passed her by. Maybe they just couldn't see her, she was relatively small after all and with the rain pouring down on the windshields it must be hard to see anything let alone a petite and soaking wet woman.

Molly scowled at her bad luck and turned on her heal intending to walk home and then take a very long and very hot shower but suddenly the rain stopped. It hadn't stopped raining in general but there was something that was covering her. Molly looked over to see a straight faced and slightly damp Sherlock Holmes holding an umbrella over their heads and walking in pace with her.

"Sherlock!" Molly squeaked in surprise. "How did you- what are you doing here?" Sherlock looked at Molly out of the corner of his eyes not turning his head all the way.  
"This is a street, is it not? I was taking a stroll to help me think and saw you looking more or less like a drowning cat." Molly flushed at his description of her appearance and didn't comment on how normal people didn't take strolls in the rain. "Just thought I'd help."  
"Oh! Well, thank you." Molly bit her lip trying hard not to let her thoughts dwell too much on how small the distance between Sherlock and herself was.

"Mary! That's her name, right?" Sherlock and Molly turned a street corner while she looked at him questioningly.  
"Who's name?"  
"The woman that likes John who works in the forensics lab, her name is Mary?"  
"Yes, how did you-"  
"Process of elimination." Sherlock explained simply.  
"No, I meant how did you know that she likes John?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.  
"Really Molly, I'd expect more of you. Have you ever noticed the way she flips her hair when he enters the room, or perhaps the little giggle she has to suppress whenever he looks in her direction and flashes a smile? It's nauseating really." Sherlock shuddered at the thought of John marrying the woman which he knew he would eventually do.

"Does he like her back?" Molly asked hesitantly. Sherlock frowned at her tone of voice. To him, it seemed that whenever she was talking to him everything came out hesitantly as if she wasn't sure what his next move was going to be. Now that he thought about it, maybe she couldn't read him as well as John could; not that John could read him very well at all. His frown turned into a smirk at the thought.

"Yes, I believe so. Good news for your friend then, I expect a happy announcement within 9 months or so."  
"9 months?"  
"A bit premature, but John's been searching for a woman like Mary all his life, he's hardly going to let her go easily." Sherlock shrugged. He was still relatively new to the world of love but he could understand the chemical reactions. Now he just had to find a way to let Molly know where he was going with all of this.

"Molly-"  
"Oh, here we are!" Molly smiled at the sight of her apartment building in front of her. The weed-filled courtyard and squeaky front door had never looked as welcoming as they did now. She could practically hear her shower calling her name.

Sherlock, acting much more the part of a gentleman than Molly was used to, led her up to the front stoop of the building.  
"Thank you again, Sherlock."  
"It wasn't a problem." Sherlock gritted his teeth together to keep idiotic words from spilling out of his mouth. It's now or never Sherlock, he reminded himself. Of course, things don't always go as planned.

"I'll see you later then." Molly smiled gratefully at the consulting detective before opening the door in front of her.  
"Goodnight Sherlock."  
"Goodnight Molly." The door closed softly behind her and Sherlock walked away more puzzled than before and even more frustrated with himself. He was so close to asking Molly if she wanted to get dinner the next evening, but then he had just let her go. Sherlock sighed and started walking towards 221B Baker Street too angry with himself to hail a cab. He had to try again, and this time he had to be obvious.

Around the same time, Mary was heading home in a cab animatedly texting a certain Dr. Watson.

_So, you still haven't told Molly yet?  
-JW_

_Not at all. She doesn't need to know that we're already dating.  
She'd get suspicious about our 'girls night' tomorrow.  
-MM_

_She SHOULD be suspicious. Sherlock isn't very good  
at expressing actual emotions. They both need our help.  
-JW_

_That's true. I'll text Molly tomorrow to meet me at the  
bar at 7:00 and when she shows up, whoops! Turns  
out you and Sherlock are at the same bar. Now how did that happen?  
-MM  
Very devious. I'll see you tomorrow then?  
-JW_

_Of course! We'll have our hands full with Sherlock and  
Molly. This is going to be FUN!  
-MM_

_**A/N Kudos to those of you that got the How I Met Your Mother reference at the beginning of the story! I'm planning on posting the next chapter within a day or two. Don't forget to review!**_


	6. Chapter 6

"Molly? Molly, are you there? I know you can hear me Molly Hooper, answer your phone." The answering machine in Molly's flat played Mary's voice out through the tiny speaker. However, she was ignoring her best friends' voice and was instead toweling off her hair in her white washed bathroom after hopping out of the shower.  
"Molly, would you please stop ignoring me? I took the night off specifically for you sweetie, now get your butt down here and let's go have some fun!" Molly sighed and walked out of her bathroom and into her living room clad in a fluffy bath robe and a white towel wrapped around her head only half listening to Mary's enthusiasm.

"MOLLY HOOPER! I _will_ come up to your flat and drag you by your _earlobe_ down to Puzzles if you don't answer your phone." Molly sighed and walked over to pick up her receiver.  
"Very passive aggressive, don't you think Mary?"  
"Finally! It's about time you answered."  
"I was in the shower."  
"I guessed as much which is why there's a bit of that message towards the beginning of me commenting on different types of shampoo." Molly had to laugh at that. Mary was her best friend and she was quite an interesting person even if she annoyed the brilliant pathologist to no end.

"You're coming down though, yeah?" Molly switched the phone to her left hand and padded off to her bedroom to open her wardrobe. The collection of jumpers she had acquired over the years was slightly alarming  
"I don't know Mary, I'm not feeling very well. Maybe I should just enjoy my evening off at home." Molly didn't have to listen very hard to hear the gasp of surprise and annoyance at her words.  
"Nope, not a chance Molly. I'll meet you at the pub around seven and you better be dressed to the nines!" Before she could protest, Mary had hung up the phone leaving only the dull dial tone in her wake. Silently, Molly set the receiver down on her bed and returned to her wardrobe trying desperately to resist the urge to crawl in bed and go to sleep.

Molly sighed, grabbing the first acceptable blouse she saw and pulled the towel off of her head. Maybe, if she was very,_ very_ lucky she would be able to come home before midnight.

"Sherlock, you're going to end up growing roots in the sofa if you don't get up." John Watson stared at his roommate who was currently curled up on the couch, his face pressed up against the cushions.  
"You are a doctor John, you should know the impossibility of that statement." John rolled his eyes at the muffled reply.  
"Fine, you don't have to come to the pub with me but I'm telling you, you'd actually have fun." Sherlock's back stiffened as he rolled around to face the army doctor.  
"_Fun?_ I'll actually have_ fun_ surrounded by drunk morons in a crowded bar drinking an overpriced alcoholic beverage that wasn't cooled properly?" Sherlock laughed once without humor, staring at John incredulously. John waited patiently for the response he knew was coming.  
"Fine." John nodded his head and held back a grin while Sherlock stood up and stepped on the table to get to his room. "But I won't apologize for the deductions I make while there." He said before shutting his door. John let a smile spread across his face as he quickly pulled out his phone.

_**I've gotten Sherlock's attention; he's coming  
with me.  
-JW**_

The reply came within half a minute.

_**Good! Molly should be coming too; I called her  
and wouldn't take no for an answer. She  
might be a bit mad at us if she figures all of  
this out.  
-MM**_

John bit his lip thinking of Sherlock and Molly. Were they doing the wrong thing by interfering with their nonexistent relationship? Molly could have gotten over her feelings for Sherlock and putting them together like this could make everything awkward. Then John remembered the day in the morgue when Sherlock had kissed Molly on the cheek, and the time that Mary had seen Sherlock walk Molly home and he grinned. Of course they were doing the right thing!

_**We'll see what happens. After all,  
it's a wonderful Friday night and the stars  
are shining brightly. Maybe the muse will hit them.  
-JW**_

_**John Watson! I've never known you to be  
such a hopeless romantic.  
-MM**_

John smiled again but didn't reply. Hopefully, if all went well, something might come of the evening yet.

Sherlock frowned at the drink in front of him, carefully swirling the ice around. He had decided against alcohol tonight, instead opting for a cooled ginger ale. John sat next to Sherlock on a bar stool tapping his fingers impatiently on the coaster in front of him. He had hoped that Mary would arrive before Molly did that way Sherlock would be by himself but it was almost seven and there wasn't a sign of either of them.

John didn't have long to worry for in that moment outside of the bar, Mary was helping her best friend Molly out of a taxi.

"Molly!" Mary had to hold back a squeal of surprise and delight.  
"What?" Molly cautiously stepped out of the cab, glancing around her shoulders before paying the driver. "Is something wrong?"  
Mary laughed. "You just look gorgeous!" She smiled at the shy pathologist and gestured to the dark green blouse she was wearing paired with dark jeans.  
"Oh. Well, thank you Mary." Molly seemed to regain her good mood and offered her arm to Mary mockingly.  
"Shall we?" Mary laughed and the two walked arm and arm into the bar.

Sherlock swirled the ice around in his glass again, ignoring John who was talking about some patient of his at the hospital. He wasn't entirely sure why he agreed to come to the pub in the first place; he never liked loud, public places even if they were full of potential test subjects, so why did he want to come now? Sherlock scowled at the man behind the counter who was trying to no avail to get Sherlock's attention and flirt with him.

"John!" Sherlock glanced up when he heard a high pitched female voice call out the doctors' name. John jumped out of his chair standing up to greet Mary Morstan and her companion. Sherlock didn't bother to pay much attention to the two who were chatting animatedly, and was instead turning back to his drink and his mind palace. But then he saw Molly.

Molly stood slightly behind Mary, like a child faced with meeting her parents friends at a young age. She looked extremely uncomfortable, her right hand holding onto her left wrist in a manner which portrayed uneasiness. Sherlock didn't have to deduce what was making her feel that way; it was blatantly obvious that the affection between Mary and John was beyond just a touch of flirting and she wasn't prepared for this sort of evening.

"Sherlock," John called Sherlock out of his thoughts and gestured to Mary. "This is Mary Morstan." Sherlock held back a frown but set his drink down carefully and stood to address the woman standing in front of him.  
"Yes, I'm quite aware that this is the forensic technician you've been pining after for some time now John," Mary's jaw fell open but Sherlock continued. "And it seems that your affection has paid off, how long have you been dating now? Almost three weeks, I'm surprised that you've tried to keep it a secret for that long." Molly opened her mouth to say something to Mary, seemingly hurt, but Sherlock wasn't finished. "Judging by Molly's surprised expression I'm guessing this was a planned 'girls night' am I wrong? No doubt that Mary and yourself planned to make this little get together look like an accident to try and drive Molly and I together." Molly definitely looked hurt now but Sherlock ignored the stares from the people around him and continued sarcastically. "Splendid idea really, and judging by the attire worn by Miss Morstan and yourself one can only presume that you two intended to celebrate your victory in a very intimate way." Sherlock turned, ignoring the stunned expressions from both Mary and John.

"Good evening, Molly." Sherlock snatched his coat up from the back of the bar stool, shrugged it on and exited the pub, a scowl etched across his face.

John, Mary and Molly stared after the consulting detective whose black coat was billowing out behind him as he left hurriedly. Mary reached out hesitantly to touch Molly's wrist.  
"Sweetie…" Molly turned and faced both John and Mary but didn't say a word. She couldn't form anything coherent that could express every emotion she was feeling right now. She was angry beyond belief at Mary for lying to her, and she couldn't get Sherlock's stinging refusal out of her ears.

"Molly-" John tried to get her attention but Molly just shook her head.  
"Don't. Please, just don't." She tugged her wrist free of Mary's grasp and turned to leave the pub, holding back the flood of emotions that welled up inside her.

Molly shivered as she let the door shut softly behind her and she made her way towards the side of the road and hailed a cab. The taxi pulled up instantly and she slid inside rubbing her forehead in an attempt to stop a headache in its tracks.  
"Where to miss?" The driver asked, his accent slurring the words together slightly. Molly opened her mouth but hesitated, her eyebrows knitting together as she thought quickly.

"221B Baker Street, please."

**A/N: I am so,**_** so**_** sorry for those of you that have been patiently waiting for this chapter! Getting sick is never fun, especially when you are also buried in final exams. Anyways, thanks for sticking with me this long! Remember that reviews make me write faster and I'm still taking prompts either through private messages or reviews!**


	7. Chapter 7

Sherlock was back lying down in his favorite spot on his sofa in 221B clad only in trousers and his dressing gown and trying desperately to push emotions aside and let all thoughts of this evening slip from his mind. He wouldn't think about how disgustingly obvious the bar tender's attempts at flattery had been, he wouldn't think about how angry he was at John for lying to him and he most certainly wouldn't think about how drop dead gorgeous Molly had looked or the look of utter hurt and loss that was etched across her face when he stormed out of the bar.

Sherlock groaned aloud and kicked a pillow near his feet, trying to stretch and relive the tension in his muscles. If he could just sit still for five minutes maybe he would be able to forget the while affair and start anew. But then again, that dreadful Mary woman would still be around and then there was Molly. She was bound to be hurt by his recent refusal of her affections, however indirect it was, and he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to make amends.

Unbeknownst to Sherlock John was thinking the same thing, although not just about Molly but Sherlock as well. Mary and John were sitting at a both inside the bar talking quietly hoping that they might be able to find a solution.

"What were we supposed to expect? Sherlock basically has no feelings; he's just a big glob of…blah." Mary exclaimed waving her hands around in the air searching for words hoping she could snatch the right apology to her best friend out of thin air. John sighed and shifted his arm forward to grasp Mary's hand.  
"Hey," he said comfortingly. "We'll figure something out. This is Sherlock and Molly we're talking about, and even thought we screwed up-"  
"Screwed up big time." Mary grumbled placing their hands down on the table in front of them. "We hid our relationship from the most important people in our lives for three whole weeks. If Molly had done that to me, I'd be mad. So why the hell did I do that to her?" Mary sniffed audibly while John rubbed soothing circles with his thumb on her palm.  
"We just have to find a way to make it right again. Talking it out might work with Molly, but with Sherlock-" John closed his eyes. "It might take a bit more than that." Mary nodded and leaned in to kiss John's wrist.

"We'll work this out." She said half-heartedly. "We started this and we can end it too. Molly and Sherlock will be alright." John smiled at Mary's attempt to comfort him but knew that she wasn't entirely sure herself if this was going to turn out alright. And although he didn't want to think about it, the thought was still there. What if they had broken whatever bonds had started to form between the consulting detective and his pathologist? What if they had caused Sherlock and Molly to pretend like nothing had ever happened between them?

The cab ride Molly had endured was a quick one which didn't really give her a chance to work out just why she was coming to see Sherlock. After all, he had stormed out of the bar in the first place; why should she chase him all over town? She didn't even have a proper response for when he would ask her what she wanted let alone what to say next. Molly had half a mind to ask the cabby to turn around and just bring her home but her limbs didn't listen as they hopped out of the car, paid the driver and walked swiftly toward the front doors of 221B.

Molly tried coaching herself over and over about speaking her mind and looking Sherlock in the eye when she spoke and actually standing up for herself for once but every thought vanished when she knocked quietly on the door to John and Sherlock's parlor.

Sherlock was almost all the way inside of his mind palace, working through details of old cases which he knew would keep him distracted enough to forget about the nights events if only for a few moments when a hesitant knock could be heard from outside the flats door. Sherlock frowned knowing that if the knocker wasn't Mrs. Hudson, which he had already deduced it couldn't have been as she had already taken her evening soothers, it had to be Lestrade or someone from Scotland Yard. But why were they calling so late at night? No it couldn't be Lestrade.

Sherlock stood up, and strode towards the door reaching for the handle. If it wasn't Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade or God forbid Anderson, then who-

Sherlock opened the door to reveal Molly Hooper who jumped a bit at the noise while Sherlock stepped back in surprise.  
"Molly-"  
"Sherlock." Molly tried to sound confident in her words but his name came out as a strangled squeak. "Um… can I come in?" Sherlock blinked once but silently stepped aside to allow Molly to enter. He shut the door quietly and turned to face Molly who was shifting awkwardly on her feet obviously trying to come up with the right words to say.

"You're…you're not wearing a shirt." She finally commented. A bit anticlimactic but that was the best she could come up with and incidentally the only thing she could really focus on.  
"Yes." Sherlock blinked again and Molly bit her lip at the awkward silence that followed. "Was there something else that you wanted?" Sherlock studied Molly's reaction carefully, storing every twitch of a muscle in his mind palace as she debated internally what she should say.

"You've…..you just..." Molly started sentence after sentence without finishing any of them. She put a hand up to her forehead as she felt another headache coming along but she refused to let her mousey side win any longer. She had a voice and no one was going to stop her from speaking.  
"Molly…" Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed together. This wasn't the Molly he was used to.

"I can't….Sherlock Holmes, you've always been an enigma but for once I don't give a damn!" Molly startled both herself and Sherlock by yelling but once the words had left her mouth, she felt a surge of energy hit her and she realized she wasn't done.  
"You know, the first time I met you, you thought that I was the new pathologist's assistant. It didn't register in your one track head of yours that a woman of my age could have possibly become the head pathologist of one of the most successful hospitals in England! You walked around the lab like you owned it and demanded coffee as if it was your right!" Molly threw her hands up in the air and turned around to face the windows in the far side of the parlor.

"When you found out I was the pathologist, you didn't apologize but instead explained your relationship that you had with the past doctor and then left saying that you'd be back to look at our 'collection of bodies' next week!" Sherlock didn't interrupt.

"I couldn't figure out just what type of psychopath you were but once I got to know you, I actually started to like you! I started to like my job again and saw the good I was doing rather than focus on the fact that I was surrounded by the dead all day long!" Molly bit her lip but continued.  
"The thing is though Sherlock, you knew. You KNEW! You knew how I felt and you used it against me, to _manipulate_ me to get what you wanted whether it was body parts or extra time in the lab-" She rubbed her forehead again. "I trusted you wholeheartedly and all you've been able to do is just use me."

"Molly-"  
"No! You let me finish!" Molly whirled around, her hair coming lose from the pony tail it was in. "I don't care how intelligent you are, you know NOTHING when it comes to actual, human emotions!" Molly stepped closer to Sherlock jabbing her finger into his chest. "You just use people until they can't take it anymore! I'm sick of it Sherlock! You aren't going to use me ever again! I'm done with you and your horribly misjudged attempt at insincere flattery!" Molly's voice got louder and louder, her thoughts actually being said out loud for once and before either one of them could register what was going on, Molly's hand flew up and smacked Sherlock across the face.

The both froze. Sherlock's hand reached up to touch the now turning pink flesh around his cheek bone while Molly drew her hand back to cover her mouth in surprise.  
"I- I'm so sorry." She whispered. "I didn't think I'd hit- I'm so sorry." Sherlock pulled his hand back to look at the few droplets of blood that had cumulated on his palm from a ring around her middle finger.  
"You're bleeding." She whispered hoarsely.  
"Molly Hooper." Sherlock stated simply. He let his clean hand fall lightly on Molly's shoulder. If Molly was nervous before, it was nothing compared to how she felt now. "The most brilliant pathologist in England who can't tell when she's loved."

Molly opened her mouth to respond but before a word left her mouth, Sherlock pressed his lips to her own.

_**Hey readers! No, this isn't the end of the story I promise but I thought I'd be evil and leave you all with a cliff hanger. Again. *Laughs maniacally* Anyways, I'll be updating with the next chapter soon so keep your eyes open. Don't forget to review and I'm still open to any prompts you may have. Thank you all for sticking with me this far!**_


	8. Chapter 8

"I'll call you tomorrow morning." John promised as he leaned in to kiss Mary's cheek. John and Mary were both on the main road outside of the pub they had just left hoping against all hope that they would be able to make amends with their best friends.  
Mary nodded and smiled half-heartedly before stepping into the cab that was waiting for her.

Molly stood with her arms by her sides, her fingers curled up into fists, completely unsure of how to process what was going on in front of her. Sherlock Holmes, the man that she had had a childish crush on for years was kissing her. On the lips. And _passionately _at that. Cautiously, Sherlock's hand moved from Molly's shoulder to her hair and neck and she let out a little squeak.

Sherlock either didn't hear her, or chose to ignore her but either way he continued his fervent assault of her lips making Molly exceedingly confused. What on earth was happening? Sherlock didn't have feelings, he made this perfectly clear the day they met and every day afterwards when he had known she liked him. This couldn't be real, any moment now Molly would wake up and realize that this all was just a dream or in a few seconds, Sherlock would push her away looking like he always did. Aloof.

Molly shook her head unconsciously in a gesture meant to clear her thoughts, but Sherlock broke off. He moved his head back just enough so that their lips were no longer touching and gave her a confused look.  
"Molly?" he breathed the question in a daze. Molly blinked a few times hoping that she could put her thoughts together in order to form a coherent thought, but so far she wasn't having any luck. Sherlock, realizing that Molly wouldn't be able to respond any time soon, moved his lips to her neck, tugging gently with his teeth. Molly squeaked again, making to step back from the worlds' only consulting detective, placing her hands on his chest and pushing slightly. This time, Sherlock understood what she was trying to do and he stepped back a few inches from her, his hands still wound in her hair.

He gave her a puzzled look, his eyes searching in hers looking for an answer to a question that he hadn't asked. His face looked so vulnerable and childlike; Molly didn't know what to do. This wasn't the Sherlock she was used to, the calculating consulting detective who could deduce any person's life story with a minute and a half.

"Sherlock-"  
Before Molly could finish her sentence, a soft knock was heard on the door to 221B making both Sherlock and Molly jump and then freeze in their tracks.  
"Yoo-hoo! Sherlock, dear! There's a package downstairs for you, would you like me to bring it up?" Mrs. Hudson's voice was muffled coming from behind the thick wood of the door, but Sherlock didn't move to answer it.

"Just leave it by the door!" Sherlock snapped, his blue-green eyes hardening. "I'll get it later!" Molly could hear Mrs. Hudson clicking her tongue at Sherlock's rude, albeit normal behavior, as she walked down the stairs to her flat, her house slippers padding in her wake.

As soon as they heard the door of 221A close behind the elderly land lady, Sherlock stepped further back from Molly and looked up above her head at the ceiling as if to pretend she wasn't there. Molly knew that couldn't be the case; even though he had stepped back from her and her from him, they were still relatively close to each other. Sherlock's hands were still resting lightly on her shoulders.

"Sherlock…" He closed his eyes at his name, a little crease forming in between his eyebrows, a frown tugging the corner of his lipstick stained lips downward. Molly watched his movements trying to categorize them as he did with everyone else's subtle gestures but she couldn't read him this time.

"Sherlock, if I did something wrong- I mean, I slapped you but um… when we were, um, kissing… if I d-did anything that upset you or-" Sherlock's eyes snapped open and the frown disappeared from his mouth. The movements were so sudden that Molly was shocked into silence.  
"If you remember Dr. Hooper, I was the one that started kissing you first."  
"Well, yes b-but I mean-"  
"I know what you meant."  
"Oh."

Molly bit her lip, and looked down at her shoes. She noted now how her comfy work shoes had been stained over time with multiple chemicals and, due to her occasional clumsiness, there were tiny scratches on the toes where she had dropped scalpels or other sharp instruments.

Sherlock looked down at Molly who was still busy inspecting her shoes and couldn't help but grin just a tiny bit. _Molly Hooper, the most brilliant pathologist in England who can't tell when she's loved. _He wouldn't go as far to say that he loved her, but he most definitely had feelings for her and he knew that she had spent years trying to share the feelings that she had for him. The memories of the many times he had cruelly rejected Molly slapped him in the face before he could push them away; Sherlock shook his head to try and clear it.

Molly looked up from her feet, a puzzled expression etched across her face. Sherlock looked down into her eyes, hoping that there would be something there that could comfort him; just like she had done every time he wasn't at his best.

"Molly, I want you to know-" he cleared his throat in a very un-Sherlock like manner but continued. "I can't- I mean, I won't be able to..." He stopped for a second time making a small smile creep across Molly's face. "I've never been good at relationships. I won't ever be good at it, but I-" Molly stood up on her tip toes, the smile much more obvious now as she leaned in to peck Sherlock softly on the lips.

"Sherlock, I like you. I don't want you to change yourself. I like _you._" Molly was blushing furiously at this point, turning as red as the cherries on her favorite jumper that she had (thankfully) left at home. Sherlock grinned, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief that Molly had come to recognize over the years of knowing him.

"You know," Sherlock started deviously. "John and his girlfriend-"  
"Mary."  
"Yes her. They still think that they caused a row and that we haven't made up."  
"_Ahhh_." Molly nodded her head understanding where Sherlock was going with this. "It wouldn't be _too_ evil if we didn't correct them, right?" She meant her words to come out as a statement but the questioning tone in her voice left room for Sherlock to correct her.

Sherlock smiled, pleased that Molly had understood what he meant so quickly. _She really is remarkable_ he thought to himself before pressing his lips happily against Molly's.

_**A/N: I'm really, really sorry I haven't updated in a while. Depression and hospitalization are buzz kills, as always. I will try and update soon, I'm pretty dead inside right now so it could take me a bit of time. I'm still taking prompts either in review form or in PM. Reviews are always helpful :) Thanks to my lovely sister Twin28 (that's her pen name) for Beta-ing these last couple of chapters.**_


	9. Chapter 9

Molly Hooper busied herself weighing the kidney and liver of her newest patient while working an extra shift at the morgue. She knew it was unprofessional of her to cry but her eyes were red and they stung horribly while she was working. Molly tried to remember that she couldn't prevent any of these deaths but she was just sent a carload of teen fatalities along with one of the drunk boy's little sister who was all of eight years old and couldn't possibly have been out of primary school. Molly's heart ached when her thoughts went back to when the parents of the teens came to identify the bodies. It was never easy to sit through the identification process and it was better when she could see the cadaver as nothing more than organs. But when the victim was a mere child- Molly choked back a sob as she placed the organs back in the body and started on a neat baseball stitch.

"Molly?" She was finished sewing up the little girl when Mary Morstan stepped through the doors of the morgue in bright blue scrubs. Although she normally worked in the forensics lab, she had offered to fill in for a nurse in the pediatric ward who was on maternity leave. Molly knew that as much as she loved the lab, she loved working with children more.

"Oh, sweetie!" Mary noticed the tear tracks underneath Molly's mask and how puffy and red her face had become. Once Molly had wheeled away the body, peeled her gloves and mask off and washed her hands up to her elbows, Mary wrapped her arms around her in a gigantic hug. Molly sniffed audibly trying to block out the unpleasant memories, but she knew it was close to impossible. The look on the little girl's father's face when he saw his daughter, pale as a ghost, lying on a cold slab, was terrible.

Molly broke out into a fresh round of sobs just as the doors to the morgue opened again.  
"Molly, I need a batch of thumbs, the ones I had before if you've got-" Sherlock had walked in typing away at his phone but looked up, startled, when he heard Moly's cries muffled in Mary's shoulder. Even though Sherlock and Molly both wanted to keep their relationship a secret for as long as they could, Sherlock's phone was in his pocket in an instant and he was next to Molly a second later, his hands gently prying Molly away from her best friend. Mary stepped back glaring at Sherlock but remained silent as Molly buried her face in her hands not wanting Sherlock to see her tears. It was a lost cause however, as the salt water flowed freely through her fingers.

"Molly, what happened, are you hurt?" His eyes raked over Molly looking for any physical damage, his hands grasping her shoulders holding her steady. He quickly assessed the situation, nodding once he realized why she was so upset.  
"Ah." Molly lifter her head from her hands sniffing slightly.  
"I'm f-fine really. I j-just need a minute to c-calm down." Mary handed the hiccupping Molly a tissue sympathetically, all traces of annoyance at Sherlock gone from her face. Sherlock ignored Mary as per usual but was silently glad that she had tissues for Molly to use.

Molly blew her nose noisily in the Kleenex and sniffed again wiping the tears from her face.  
"I'm sorry," she sniffed again rubbing the back of her hand across her eyes. "I'm normally not that emotional, it's just- that poor little girl!" Mary nodded her head sympathetically and took the dirty tissues from Molly, walking across the room to throw them away. Once Mary's back was turned Sherlock leaned down and pecked Molly lightly on the cheek, brushing the hair that had come loose from her pony tail out of her eyes. Molly smiled a bit, wiping the last of the tears from her face. She knew that Sherlock had never been one for public displays of affection and since their relationship was fairly new, she hadn't expected him to be so open with his feelings. It made her a bit happier to have him there to comfort her.

"Molly, honey," Mary walked towards the pair oblivious to what had just happened behind her back. "I came down here to apologize. It's actually lucky that I caught you down here too, Sherlock." Mary didn't look as if she was lucky at all to have walked in right before Sherlock did, but she continued anyways. "John and I shouldn't have interfered. I'm sorry that we took advantage of you Molly, and I'm especially sorry that I hurt you." Mary's eyes shifted to Molly's, to Sherlock's and back again before she continued. "It won't happen again and I understand if you want to take a bit of a break from our friendship Molly."

Molly smiled at Mary and reached out for her hands to pull her into a hug. "It hurt that you didn't tell me Mary, it really did, but I'm glad that you came to me and apologized." Mary pushed Molly's pony tail off of her own shoulder and squeezed her best friend tightly. Molly had had trouble with friends who used her in the past but she knew with all her heart that Mary truly was sorry and that was enough for her.

"Not to interrupt this wonderfully emotional moment," Sherlock had pulled out his phone again and was typing adamantly seemingly uncaring to the two doctor's feelings. "But I do need those thumbs Molly, and I'm fairly positive that your break is about to run out Dr. Morstan." Mary's eyebrow rose in an expression that should have sent any sane person running through the nearest doorway but Sherlock was completely immune instead turning to glance at Molly who was bustling around trying to remember where she had placed the thumbs Sherlock had used for an experiment not long before.

"Yes, well." Mary shook her head and turned to Molly who was poking around in refrigerators near a microscope looking for Sherlock's thumbs. "Molly, why don't we chat later, I've got my mobile, and we can find a time to get together, yeah?" Mary smiled at her best friend. Things were looking up again, finally. Maybe it would stay that way. Molly walked over and hugged Mary tightly ignoring the roll of Sherlock's eyes that was caused by the show of affection between the two women.  
"Love you sweetie."  
"Love you too, Mary." Mary's watch beeped signaling the end of her break just as Sherlock had said and she stepped back giving Molly one last squeeze.  
"We'll talk later." Mary touched the side of her watch to turn of the alarm and walked out of the morgue leaving Molly to continue rustling around to locate lost human limbs. She poked in this refrigerator and that one, frowning each time she came up literally empty handed.

"You know, Sherlock, I think that I might have thrown your thumbs away-"  
"Doesn't matter."  
"Sorry?" Sherlock walked over to where Molly was leaning over, her palms against her thighs while she looked into a small fridge meant for bodies.  
"I didn't need the thumbs. I already finished my experiment, don't you remember?" Molly stood up, images flooding her head of one of Sherlock's bouts in the lab with a mold he didn't recognize. Molly had correctly identified it, and in a fit of insanity (Or so Sherlock had convinced himself) he kissed her on the cheek before leaving the morgue to record the data.  
"How could I forget?" Molly said blushing. The edges of Sherlock's mouth turned upwards once he noticed the blood that had caused Molly's cheeks to turn bright red. He had never told her, but he always found that trait sweet, something that specifically spelled out his Molly. Molly blushed even more while she was under his watchful gaze which only made his smile more prominent.

"Dinner?" He asked her suddenly. Molly blinked a couple of times at the sudden change of subject.  
"What, now? It's three o'clock in the afternoon." Sherlock rolled his eyes as if it was obvious. Which, Molly realized, to Sherlock it probably was.  
"No, not now, Friday evening. I have reservations at Angelo's and two tickets to see Les Miserables at The Royal Opera House."  
"The Royal- how on earth did you manage that? It was sold out in less than three hours, I went to buy tickets and so many people had to be turned away. The Royal family is rumored to be going on Friday!" Molly's eyes were wide as saucers as she looked at Sherlock who was smirking at Molly, obviously pleased with her reaction.  
"Someone owed me a favor. Do you want to go?" Molly shook her head, realizing that a lot of people must owe Sherlock something even though he probably would forget them as soon as the mystery was done with.  
"Yes, of course, it sounds lovely!" Molly closed the refrigerator door she had left open while Sherlock's phone beeped loudly. He pulled it out, frowning.

"What's the matter?"  
"Lestrade." Sherlock explained in a word, before setting his phone back in his pocket. "Needs help at the Yard. Are you alright to finish the autopsies?" Sherlock jerked his head in the direction of the three body bags sitting on slabs on the other side of the morgue.  
"I'll be fine. The identification process is always the hardest, I can finish up here." Sherlock bent his knees slightly so that his eyes were even with Molly's.  
"Are you sure? I can speak to Mike, he'll get one of the other pathologists in and you can take the day off. I know you can get a bit… emotional about child deaths." His eyes searched hers looking for any sign of hesitation.  
"No, no, don't worry about me Sherlock, I'll be fine." He didn't realize it but she was truly touched by his concern.

Sherlock ignored another insistent beep from his phone, choosing instead to peck Molly lightly on the cheek where he had earlier.  
"If you're sure. I'll see you on Friday." Before Molly could register that Sherlock was leaving, he was already out the door, his coat billowing behind him.

_**A/N: Ooh, date night for the new couple. Are you excited for it? I'm excited. And the Royal family too? There's got to be something up Sherlock's sleeve for this one. Thank you for all of your lovely "get well" notes. I'm still in the exact same place depression wise as I was before, but your support truly touches me. Thank you for sticking with me this far, I'll see you all at the next chapter!**_


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